


Kiss and Tell

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Badass Martin, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: Peter is drunk.Martin doesn't get paid enough to deal with this.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Kiss and Tell

“He doesn’t kiss me when he’s sober. Like,” Peter stared off into the distance, searching for words that clang to the tip off his tongue like the smell of brandy to his breath. “Like it would be unbearable to do it just… just to do it, you know?” Martin didn’t, in fact, ‘know’ but he was starting to realize that this wasn’t about him or about work or any other thing that would have warranted being called into Peter’s office only to find the man in question halfway through Elias' liquor cabinet. 

“Are you-” Martin caught himself. He strongly doubted Peter had ever been okay to begin with. Instead, he settled for: “Do you need anything?” 

“I don’t even like kissing that much. But it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” It really didn’t, as far as Martin was concerned, but since he was being so thoroughly ignored he had little choice but to stare blankly at Peter, trying to figure out if this was some kind of supernatural emergency or not. “I mean, with all the other things he does with that mouth of his, you’d think a kiss wouldn’t be too much to ask, right? For the sake of it? Innit common courtesy to‘t least pretend to like the person you’re shagging?” Martin exhaled slowly. Peter was looking at him now, brows furrowed in concentration. “If someone like me’d do that, but he won’t then… then - Well, then that’s properly fucked up, innit?” 

“Sure.” Martin said courtly, forcing down a pang of pity, clinging to his frustration like a lifeline. He couldn’t afford sympathy. ”Here, let me…” Martin reached for the bottle at the same time as Peter and had to carefully pry it from his fingers. “That’s quite enough”, he said, using just the kind of emphasis that he well knew could make Peter comply instantly. And really, it still worked like a charm, smoothing the lines on Peter’s brow right as he let the bottle go.

“There”, Martin said, putting the brandy back into the cabinet from whence he knew it came. “Better.” He walked over to Peter, considered offering to call him a cab only to find himself wondering if Peter even had a place to live or if he was always sulking around in the Lonely when he wasn’t bothering people in the office. He settled for: “You should go”, nudging Peter upright, helping him into his coat. (Hoping - somewhere deep in his mind, in that part of his brain that was bitter and tired and fed up with all the pain - that Peter would lose his way in the Lonely and never come back). Peter was so easily led by his touches that it was almost pathetic. Martin thought about killing him, for a split second, then felt guilty, then angry for feeling guilty, then guilty for feeling angry for feeling guilty - and just as he was about to spiral further, Peter rested his forehead on his shoulder and murmured: 

“Yer good at this.” Martin wanted to scoff, to make a bitter remark about years and years of taking care of others, but instead he felt his treacherous heart soften for just a second and allowed himself to indulge in that empty praise. And maybe, maybe, there was a deeper, darker idea forming in the back of his mind as he gently pushed Peter off his shoulder and forced him to meet his eyes. 

“I know”, Martin said softly - and leaned forward to slowly, slowly, brush his lips against Peter’s, despite the smell of brandy, despite the absurdity of it all, and kissed him like he meant it. Peter swayed a little, as Martin drew back, mesmerized, hypnotized. And Martin smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually post fragments but my life insists on being a soap opera atm so have some emotional support angst.


End file.
